


When the Rain Washes You Clean

by Fangirlxwritesx67



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-17 03:47:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29093712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fangirlxwritesx67/pseuds/Fangirlxwritesx67
Relationships: Rowena MacLeod/Sam Winchester
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1




	2. Closer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AN: You know what to expect by now: flirting, kissing, dirty talking, sex, a little biting (not cannibalism tho), size kink, excessive descriptions of Rowena being gorgeous and Sam being hunky.   
> I imagined this being an aside to the Taken By The Wind series, something with an established, loving and sexy relationship.   
> Thanks to @mskathywriteswords and @there-must-be-a-lock for the preread. This one needed more work than usual, so, thanks, friends.

Sam took Rowena’s hands in his as she stepped toward him. In one smooth motion, he pulled her onto his lap, arms wrapping around her. She settled down easily, curling into his embrace. 

For once, the two of them had all the time in the world. They could slow down, sink into the moment, savor one another. 

Sam’s hand slipped around her waist and then slid down farther, cupping her ass. 

“This close enough?” he murmured.

“Closer.”

Sam Winchester wasn’t too proud to ask for help, Rowena knew that. But he also didn’t say anything until he had exhausted every available resource. 

This time, he called her with a puzzle, a passage in a book written in a code he couldn’t decipher. As soon as he read it, she recalled the translation. She could’ve given it to him over the phone. But how often did she get an excuse to visit him? When he mentioned that he was alone in the bunker, that settled it for her.

Sam caught on, when she provided an answer quickly, that she had an ulterior motive for being there. She watched as awareness dawned on his face. 

“You knew the answer as soon as I asked, didn’t you?”

She smiled, lowering her eyelashes before looking up at him. “And what if I did?”

“Then why did you come all this way?” He spread his hands in confusion.

“How often do we have time and space to ourselves? I missed you, wanted to be closer to you.”

She rested her chin lightly on one of her hands while she reached across the books opened on the table. He clasped her other hand in both of his. His hands were huge, callused and scarred from battle, but he had long fingers like an artist. She lightly dragged her painted nails over one broad palm, her eyes never leaving his face. She was gratified to see his pupils widen until his gold-flecked hazel irises were only a thin ring. 

“Rowena,” he whispered her name like a question.

She put on her best coy smile, nodding. 

Seduction, now that was a game she had been playing -and winning- for years, with men and women alike. But with Sam, things were different. He was so much more than a prize to be won. Never had she met someone with whom she was so evenly matched in almost every way. She had taken him as a challenge, at first He had grown into a friend, and then a lover, her equal. 

Rowena licked her lips in anticipation, her eyes never leaving Sam’s. He pulled his hands back, looked away and huffed out a sigh. She could watch that all day, his chest heaving and his shoulders lifting. 

With that deep breath, he seemed to lay aside a burden that always weighed him down.

When he looked up again, his eyes were wide, his face open. He only looked this soft when he felt safe. Seeing him like this, knowing he was hers, never got old. 

This was a rare moment, just the two of them, alone together. They were safe, close, and had all the time in the world. 

He ran one hand through his hair, a boyish smile crossing his face. She felt her heart leap, looking at him, thinking about getting her fingers into those silky chestnut curls. Then he pushed back his chair and held out both hands.

“How close?” he asked, his voice husky, the invitation unmistakable. 

She stood up and walked towards him with graceful steps. The long blue dress she was wearing had been chosen carefully, specifically for this moment. Knowing how the clinging fabric draped over her curves, she put an extra sway in her hips, making the dress ripple like water. 

Her hands slipped into his outstretched grasp, and he tugged her until she was standing against him. Her breathing quickened. With one smooth motion, he pulled her easily onto his lap, face to face with him. She fit so perfectly into his embrace. 

He slid one hand down to cup the curve of her ass while the other rucked up the hem of her long dress. His fingers trailed over the silky material of her stockings until they found lace, and above that the velvety skin of her bare thighs. 

His eyes widened, lit with delight, as he discovered the surprise she had prepared for him.

“A garter belt?” he whispered eagerly. 

“I prefer them, don’t you?” She smirked. He did, and she knew it, loved to watch him go all flushed and eager.

Rowena leaned in until their noses brushed, her gaze fixed on his. Her fingers rested for a moment over his heart as they breathed in sync. He leaned in to close the tiny space between them, and their lips met, whisper soft. 

Sam wasn’t the only one who felt safe when they were together. The sanctuary of his presence allowed her to open up parts of her soul that she had kept locked safely away for centuries. She loved Sam, and he loved her. Together, their magic was powerful.

The next kiss was deeper, hungrier. His hand caressed her cheek and she leaned into his touch. She let her mouth drop open, inviting him in. His tongue explored her, slow and savoring, until she whimpered, the sound muffled between them. 

She felt her skin prickle under his lips as his kisses trailed over her jaw. His mouth followed the line of her collarbone all the way to her shoulder before he returned to the base of her neck.

“Wish I could bite you,” he murmured against her creamy skin. “Taste you, make you all mine.” 

“Why, Sam Winchester!” She tipped his chin until his gaze met hers, nails rasping against his stubble. Her lips curled with delight and a hint of wickedness. “Who ever said I’m not all yours? Taste as much as you want.” 

“Oh,” he sighed as she ground down on his lap. 

She just had to tease him further. “Or did you want to make me beg?” 

“You’d like that, hmmm, you little witch?” 

“Wouldn’t you?” She breathed the words against his lips. 

He stood up, and she felt how carefully he set her down with an arm around her waist. 

“Bed, now,” he commanded as he pulled her with him, wrapped in one strong arm. Her heels clicked on the stone as she hurried to keep up. 

Inside, he spun her to face him. She threw her arms around his neck as he tugged her to him. His hands roamed her body, broad palms and long fingers skimming and pressing and squeezing as she rolled up against him eagerly, tangling her fingers in her hair. 

They kissed desperately, breathlessly. She reached down and tugged up his shirt. Her hand slipped under it, feeling the flex of his muscles under his warm skin. She trailed her fingers around his waist, over his hips and down towards his belt buckle.

At her touch, he pulled away from her lips with a gasp.

“How do I get this dress off?” he asked.

She showed him the zipper, and he helped until the blue garment pooled at her feet. 

She had dressed carefully for this exact moment, choosing a grey lace bra and panties, and garters snapped to stockings that circled her thighs. She was well aware of how she looked, skin glowing alabaster gold. 

Sam’s gaze raked like fire over her body, hot and consuming. Her spell of eternal beauty ensured that she would look stunning. But for him, no additional magic was needed. He knew her, saw her for who she truly was, and wanted her just like that. 

If she happened to be wearing elaborate, expensive lingerie? That was just a treat for both of them. 

He stepped towards her and cupped her breasts, thumbs pushing down lace until he could circle her nipples. She arched up into his touch. 

“Rowena,” he repeated. “Wanna taste you.” 

She had to tease him, one more time, just couldn’t resist.

“I seem to recall talk of someone begging. Is it you, now?” 

The look that came over Sam’s face was one she could never resist, controlling and almost princely. He wasn’t one to ask for what he wanted, so she loved when he demanded it. 

“Get on the bed.” He bit off each word.

She obeyed.

He knelt between her knees. She looked down and he raised his gaze to meet hers, dark and hungry. All that power, that lethal skill of the world’s most dangerous hunter, was at her bidding. She had never felt more safe. 

Sam hooked one knee up over his shoulder and turned his head to kiss her thigh, first under and then over the lace band, lips trailing across her leg. She felt him unsnap the clasps keeping her stockings up as he kissed over her thighs. She lifted her hips to help him ease off her panties and garter belt, and toss away her shoes. 

She was stripped bare before him, wet and waiting. Still, he took his time. His chin grazed the sensitive skin of her thighs, kisses growing more hungry, nipping and sucking as he worked his way higher. He bit her, lightly, right on the crease where her thigh folded into her ass. 

“Please,” she gasped. She couldn’t help it. 

She felt his lips curve up in a smile. Without looking down, she knew exactly the expression that would be on his face: predatory and proud. He had made her beg. She didn’t care. She needed -

“More,” she moaned as he finally lowered his mouth to the copper curls covering her. 

He knew what he was doing, what she loved. Her head tipped back against the pillow and her fingers wound tight in the sheets as he continued, insatiable, pushing her higher.

Every touch of his mouth was pure pleasure but he was still teasing her, taking his time. She couldn’t stand it, couldn’t wait any longer. She reached for him, fingers skimming his face before slipping into his hair. 

She yanked, pressing him in hard, her hips bucking against his face. Her breath was coming in short gasping pants, murmuring his name among her curses and pleas. He kept working her over, relentless, generous, until she was coming, crying out for him. 

He eased her through her orgasm, lapping at her gently until she stopped shaking. He turned and planted one more sharp kiss on her inner thigh, just a hint of teeth along with warm wet lips, before standing up. 

She raised herself on one arm to watch as he took his clothes off. She would never tire of watching Sam undress, all those layers peeling off to reveal his beauty underneath. He was tan and toned, skin marked with ink and scars. His careful control belied his strength, but when he was naked, there was no denying it. 

If it weren’t for her magic, he could overpower her completely. Even with all of her skill, he had gotten the best of her more than once. But he loved her, cared for her, took his time to pleasure her. And he gave himself to her over and over.

He had commanded armies of hunters, angels and demons, fought Death and won. She could own him with the magic in one of her fingers. The two of them were perfectly balanced: quick, skilled and lethal. Both of them among most dangerous people in the world, but together, they were safe. 

He settled back on the bed, sitting up against the headboard with the pillows behind him. 

He held out his hands, palms up as she straddled his lap. Her fingers laced between his, the two of them eye to eye, before she lowered her mouth and kissed him. He felt her lips curve up in a smile as she nibbled along his lower lip. 

She relaxed into his grip, letting him hold her, handle her. She fit so perfectly into his grasp. He pressed careful bites and kisses all over her heated skin, He tangled his fingers in her hair, pulling until she tilted her head back. He ran his teeth along the sharp angle of her collarbone, the soft rise of her breast, the meaty curve of her shoulder. 

She shivered under his touch, skin prickling where his lips trailed against it. His attention was incredible, lighting every nerve on fire with desire. She whimpered and writhed against him, covered him with her warm slick. 

“You promised,” she whispered, her voice thick with desire. “Bite me.” 

He looked up at her, eyes dark with lust, as he pressed in to her. His hands tightened around her waist, holding her down. She felt his thumbs dig bruises into her hips.

As he thrust into her, she shimmied against him. Even sitting on his lap, he had to lower his mouth to the base of her neck. She could feel that he was careful, restrained, not wanting to hurt her. She tried to urge him on with the wanton sounds falling from her lips. 

Desire burned through her with every breath like fire. She rocked her hips as he stretched her, filled her so perfectly. He was overwhelming, taking her apart and holding her together at the same time. 

His tongue traced a spiral on the hollow of her throat before he finally bit down. He was deliberate, measured, could hurt her but chose only to mark. She didn’t see it but she knew how it would look: the imprint of his teeth, a dark purpled bruise, angry blood rising to the surface. 

Rowena heard herself cry out as her mouth dropped open in a low, ragged sob.

Sam was everywhere, inside and all over her. His lips and tongue were pressing soft kisses over the marks left by his teeth. The sensation of mingled pleasure-pain was incredible. 

Her nails dug into the breadth of his shoulders, red crescents pressed into tanned skin, trying to anchor herself as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her.

She felt her climax building, desperate tension like a rising tide. She pressed kisses along Sam’s jawline and down his neck. His muscles were tense, inviting. She couldn’t resist - she bit him, too, right at the top of his shoulder. She felt him shaking, buried deep inside her, and then he was shouting her name. 

She was clenching around him, her mouth still filled with the salty taste of his skin. Then she was coming, crying out, cursing, as her world disappeared in a burst of light. 

When her eyes fluttered open again, she was resting in Sam’s arms, wrapped in his close embrace.

She could feel his chest heave as he tried to catch his breath. She was still quivering, heartbeat racing against his. He ran his hands lightly down her back, petted her skin with his fingertips. 

This was a rare moment for the two of them, so intimate and warm. Finally, she sighed and relaxed. She nuzzled her cheek against him and whispered his name. 

“Ro,” he murmured. “I wish I could keep you, care for you, love you like this always.” 

She lifted her chin to look him full in the face. His eyes shone radiant, satisfied. 

“Hold me, Sam,” she answered. “Hold me closer.” 


	3. So You Wanna Play With Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AN: There is still so much of Sam and Rowena’s story left to tell. I’ve wanted to explore her voice but every other time I tried, I wasn’t ready. Ready or not, I’m writing now.   
> When I started writing the string of stories that turned into the series Taken By The Wind, there was something missing in the early chapters. I’ve done my best to write it here.   
> If you want to be specific, this comes after the first chapter, You Naughty Boy. Events in this chapter are also referenced in Filthy Sweet. Or, just read and enjoy hot people banging. That’s how I got here, after all. 
> 
> Sam x Rowena, 1900 words, sex, all the usual, oral sex, sex in the library, using magic (or not) during sex  
> Song: Dark Horse, Katy Perry

Rowena preferred to know what she was walking into, and right now, she did not. It had been weeks since the night she had spent with Sam Winchester in some random roadside motel. Alone together, they had finally given into their shared attraction, enjoying each other and a sizzling night of sex together. 

That night, she had fallen into blissful sleep, smug and satisfied. But Dean and Cas had come back before she woke up, so she and Sam hadn’t gotten another moment alone together. Then the weekend was over and they parted ways, leaving her unsure of where they stood now.  
***

The Winchesters had called her to come to the Men of Letters bunker yet again for help on a case. She agreed, but was unsure of where they stood now. She liked knowing everything and being in control; uncertainty was not a comfortable feeling. 

Did he regret it? She certainly didn’t. He had been a generous lover, warm and skilled. She shivered, remembering the press of his hands over every inch of her body. Her skin prickled thinking of the way errant magic had gathered under his touch, flickering into tiny, visible purple sparks. 

She wondered if he still felt the way her nails had pressed into his arms when they came together. Even tho she had been on top, controlling the pace and position, she had felt the power of him for days afterward.

She worried he might conclude he had been ensorceled, somehow, although she had done no such thing. There were no tricks, no magic, just the two of them. 

She had thought about seducing him; who wouldn’t? So tall and strong, so pretty. But it didn’t seem fair to use her usual tricks, not for him. She had needed him to be hers of his own free will. 

When the moment came, she had dressed carefully and approached him openly, doing her best to look appealing, unthreatening. She had given him time to consider her offer, then held out one hand, palm up, inviting, beseeching. 

His kaleidoscope eyes had been bright with desire when they met hers. Over and over that night, he had proven that he wanted her at least as much as she wanted him. 

The memories, although wonderful, had left her wanting more. She was hoping he would feel the same when he saw her again.

Cas opened the door to the bunker, yanking her from her memories. She straightened her skirts and smoothed her hair as she strode in. She took her time walking down the stairs, her hand skimming the railing as her heels clicked on every step. Both Winchesters were watching her, waiting at the bottom of the staircase, but she didn’t speak until she reached them.

“Hello Dean,” she cooed. “Samuel.” Dean looked at her with his usual suspicious expression, and her eyes slid over to his brother. She watched the way his face lit up, his smile forming deep dimples in his cheeks, and that told her enough.

There was no time to talk, no moment alone, until much later that evening. Dean directed them,“Do your nerdy witch things, help find us some answers.” 

She could hardly pay attention to the research, so distracted was she by Sam’s closeness. Her eyes were drawn over and over to his long fingers as he turned the pages of books, writing careful notes. She remembered the feel of them, the way they had roamed her body, cupping and caressing. 

He had touched her slowly, held her firmly in his grasp, as one hand slipped between her legs. His eyes never left her face as he explored her with patience and care, watching and listening for what gave her the most pleasure.

Many nights since then, she had gone to sleep dreaming of his hands, of the way her body responded to him. 

When he pointed out something on the page, she could no longer resist, and brushed her fingertips to his. In the dimly lit library, she could swear she was seeing those purple sparks again. 

Their eyes met. The air between them was thick with words unspoken. At last, she found her voice.

“Do you think about it? About us?” 

Sam swallowed hard before he spoke. “Only every time I close my eyes.”

“What do you think about?” Hopeful.

“Think about how soft you are,” he answered, low and husky. “How your skin flushes, right here.” He reached out, resting one hand inside her collar. “I’d like to see it again.”

“I think that can be arranged.” Rowena smiled coyly as her skin warmed under his touch. 

Sam stood up, rounding the table in a few swift steps. She rose to meet him, throwing her arms around his neck and meeting his gaze.

“I think about the way you taste,” he murmured as he lowered his mouth to hers. Their lips met and she whimpered.

Their first kiss had been soft, the ones that followed, slow and savoring.

This kiss was nothing like that. Sam’s mouth was desperate, demanding. His kisses were thirsty, like she was water in the desert. His tongue slipped between her lips and she dropped her mouth open for him, inviting, welcoming him in.

She arched her back, rising up against him, wanting more. One big hand spanned her waist, holding her close, before both of his hands strayed lower, down over her ass, cupping and squeezing. She shimmied in his grasp, pressing into his palms, lifting one leg to twine around his. She was breathing hard, trying to stay centered, but his touch on her skin was electric. 

His hands circled her waist, lifting her up to sit on the edge of the table. She gasped, and he grinned, a mischievous glint sparking in his hazel eyes. 

“Think about the way you sound when you come for me.” His broad palm trailed insistently up her legs, bunching the hem of her skirt.

“Ohh,” Rowena moaned, breathless, feeling her core go wet with memory and anticipation. 

“Is this what you want?” He slowed his fingers over her thighs, teasing just a little. 

“Yes.” Her fingers closed around his wrists, coaxing his hands higher. The little purple sparks were back, crackling off sensitive flesh everywhere he touched. 

He dropped to his knees in front of her, grabbing her, holding her close. His gaze was fixed on her face, eyes wide and pupils lust-blown. A shiver ran through her, part anticipation and part amazement. 

He waited for her slightest nod, then buried his face between her thighs, not even bothering to take down her panties. The delicate lace dragged against her, delicious friction, under his lips and tongue. 

His mouth was good, so good, but she longed for — ached for — the touch of his hands. 

“More, Sam,” she begged. “Please, your fingers —”

She felt him smile against her skin. Then he was pushing aside her panties, never letting up with his mouth, and pressing first one, then two fingers into her. 

Her back arched, and her hips tilted forward as he pleasured her. Her hands skittered over the wood table, seeking purchase. Sam was holding her, he wouldn’t let her fall, but she still reached out.

Her fingers settled in his hair, yanking the chestnut strands, drawing a moan from him. He crooked his fingers, deep inside of her, and hit that sweet spot. She threw back her head, swearing and begging in every language she knew, tensing as he pushed her further and higher. 

His name tumbled from her lips amidst the curses and pleas as she came. When her body relaxed, he eased back, looking up. His cheeks were bright, his lips puffy and smeared with her slick. He looked beautiful, obscene and perfect. 

He held out one hand and she took it, chest still heaving as he drew her to her feet. 

Sam half led, half dragged her to a corner of the library where bookcases would hide them. He snagged a throw blanket in passing and tossed it on the ground as she cast off her skirt and panties. 

He pulled her close for more insatiable kisses, one hand undoing the buttons of her shirt while she reached down for his belt. He let her go just long enough for her to lie back on the throw.

He caged her in on every side, arms alongside her face, hips over hers, kissing the rise of her breasts as he settled over her. She could’ve felt trapped. Instead she felt held, embraced. She reached for his shoulders, skimming her nails up and over his muscled arms. 

Their first time, she realized now, he had allowed her to think she had the upper hand. But now there was no question that he was taking back control. 

“Ro,” he bit off her name as his hips ground down on hers. “I want-”

“Yes,” she answered before he finished. “Yes, please.” 

His gaze never left her face, watching for every sign of permission and pleasure as he pressed her thighs apart. She was breathing hard as he rocked into her, every inch a perfect burning stretch. When he was seated all the way in, he pulled back and then bottomed out again in one powerful thrust. Her mouth dropped open in a wordless cry as she bucked up against him, knees splayed, begging for more.

He shifted his weight to one arm and grabbed her hip with his strong hand. He was holding her, grinding her against him even as he thrust into her over and over. He was carrying her, lifting her higher and higher. Shortly, she was moaning and begging and clenching desperately around him.

“You can’t keep doing that, I’m not gonna last,” he whispered, ragged and low. “Please, I need you to come. Come for me.”

The command in his voice was the last straw for her. She dug her nails into his broad shoulders, eyes squeezing closed as she came again, long and loud, and then he was coming too, and she was shaking under him, taking everything he was giving her. 

For a long moment they stayed like that, wrapped so deeply in one another. Sam pressed kisses over her face, whisper-soft. Her lashes fluttered up as she looked at him. 

He was looking at her with an expression she had never seen, so bare and open, wonder in his eyes.

The two of them sat up slowly, Sam gathering Rowena close. He smoothed her tangled curls as he pressed lazy kisses over her jaw and down her neck. 

“We can’t keep doing this,” he murmured against the curve of her shoulder.

She pulled back, keeping her one arm around his neck, facing him. 

“Why, Samuel, why ever not?”

“This just feels like something forbidden. I don’t deserve it, I shouldn’t –”

She placed one fingertip lightly over his mouth to silence him. 

“You Winchesters and your endless sense of right and wrong and duty! Life gives us precious few pleasures. Just enjoy this.“ 

Sam reached up, caressing her cheek, holding half her face in the palm of one hand. His eyes were wide and bright as he met her gaze. 

"Feels like I’m playing with magic.” His words were soft, his voice husky. 

She lifted her lips for another kiss, trusting him implicitly. As he lowered his mouth to meet hers, she saw purple sparks again. 

“Aye, the best magic of all.”   
***


	4. Love You Like This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam x Rowena, platonic side of grumpy Dean, 2100 words  
> Sex, sexytimes, more sex  
> AN: So I’ve done this story before, kinda, as a Sam x Reader, in Like Art, Like Fire, but in that one the mirror was a happy accident, and the reader was so self-conscious that she really had a hard time enjoying it. I wanted to write something with a woman who is fully conscious of her beauty

Rowena wanted to plan a surprise for Sam. 

A standing full-length mirror, that was easy enough to order on Amazon. More candles, as she loved nothing more than to light them all at once and bask in their flickering glow. It was beautiful, but she did tend to burn through them quickly that way. And another tapestry to add to the eclectic collection that covered the bare walls of her bedroom. 

Then she found a beautiful robe, cobalt blue with peacock feathers all around the hem and gold stitched trim. It looked luxurious, and she deserved nice things, so she bought that too.

She had it all shipped to the Men of Letters bunker. She planned to contact Sam with an excuse, a need for a book that was in their library, or some other easily believable thing. Anything to get her near to him, close enough to work her wiles on him.

Rowena miscalculated the timing of the delivery. Instead of texting Sam that she would be dropping by, he texted her. 

Did you get the address wrong on your latest online order?

No, I ordered a few things to be delivered there.  
Surprises, for next time I saw you. 

Oh it was a surprise, all right.  
Dean is fuming.  
You’d better get over here and deal with this. 

Rowena ordered a driver, taking just enough time to pack her bags. She arrived at the bunker rather more quickly than she had planned, just as dusk fell.

Dean was waiting at the foot of the stairs, a scowl like thunder on his face. “What part of ‘secret bunker’ do you not understand, woman? The delivery driver has been here at least three times.”

He stepped back, sweeping one arm in the direction of the map table, laden with packages. “Also, what is all this crap? How many dresses and shoes do you need?” 

She lifted her chin defiantly. “Not all of us want to wear the same flannel all the time. But this isn’t all for me.” She looked past Dean to where Sam stood, filling the doorway. He shook his head with a look of fond tolerance on his handsome face. 

“Samuel,” she cooed. “Carry these things back to my room?” 

“That, too.” Dean spoke up. “Since when do you have a room here?”

She gave him her best simpering smile. “A lady needs a place to keep her things.”

“You have plenty of those, that’s damn certain.” He huffed, waving a hand at his brother’s armload of boxes.

“And after all, I cannot always be sleeping in Sam’s bed.” She swept out of the room, leaving Dean speechless.

***

Rowena coaxed Sam to stay while she opened them, although she tucked certain boxes away. It took little effort on her part to convince him that he should put the standing mirror together for her. 

While he was occupied, she carefully placed a selection of beautiful candles amidst the ones already arrayed around the room and lit them, old and new together, filling the room with a wash of warm golden light.

Sam was bent over the mirror, his gaze directed to the floor. While he was distracted, she slipped off her traveling clothes and cloaked herself in her new robe. As she tied the sash around her narrow waist, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror over Sam’s lowered shoulder. 

Her robe was perfect, silky against her skin as she traced the fine gold embroidery with one manicured nail. In the candle light, her pale skin was luminous, her hair a waterfall of fiery curls against the deep blue and purple cloth.

“I don’t know why you need another mirror,” he scoffed as he fastened the last screw. “How much can you look at yourself?”

She stood behind him, watching her reflection as she draped the fabric clinging just so over her curves and waited for him to notice. When he finally sat up, he caught a glimpse of her in the mirror. His eyes went wide with surprise and he huffed out a deep breath. 

“I don’t know, Samuel.” She let the robe fall open around her breasts. For a moment he was still, transfixed, his gaze locked on hers. “Are you tired of looking at me?”

“Never.” Finally he turned and sat down on the bed, gathering her in his arms as their lips met passionately. For a long moment they enjoyed rediscovering one another, hands roaming one another’s bodies as they kissed, full and deep.

“So the mirror was just a pretense then?” Sam murmured.

Rowena threw back her head and laughed. “Oh my sweet boy. No, the mirror is part of the gift.” 

She looked back over her shoulder as she shrugged the robe a little lower. His gaze followed her eyes. 

“Oh.” He blushed endearingly and then reached for the dark silk, whisking it off to unveil her bare form. “So beautiful.” He murmured before his lips closed over hers again. 

She kept her head turned, showing off her profile and following his every move. Her skin prickled under his touch as his hands roamed her body. His palms were warm and strong, skimming down her ribs and into the dip of her waist before caressing the curve of her hips and caressing her buttocks. His lips strayed slowly from her mouth to the angle of her jaw, down her neck to her breasts, pressing a trail of hot kisses over her freckles before he took her nipple in his mouth. 

She moaned softly and reached for him, laid a hand on the base of his neck and felt his pulse jump under her touch. Wordlessly, she undid the first two buttons of his plaid shirt. He pulled back just enough to stand up and quickly shed his clothes.

When they were bare before one another, he settled back at the end of the bed, pulling her onto his lap for more heated kisses. After a moment he directed her to turn around.

“I want to see you, my queen.” 

She had been waiting for him to ask. He knelt, and she straddled his knees, her back pressed into the solid muscular warmth of his chest. She looked in the mirror as he slipped his fingers between her legs. She watched herself breathe harder, watched his eyes light up, as he rocked into her slowly. 

She met his gaze as her lips trembled. She gripped his arm with one hand, and pressed the other down lower, lacing her fingers in with his where he was touching her, so they were stroking together. He began to thrust, and she moved with him, matching the way his body and hers fit together, as he was filling her and fingering her and working her over so perfectly. Her orgasm built gradually, like a rolling wave in a lazy summer sea.

She smiled, seeing a soft peach flush rise over the pale freckled skin of her breasts, towards her neck. She didn’t look away even when her mouth dropped open in a soft moan, when the wave of her orgasm finally crested over her with a wash of pleasure. 

She let her head drop back against Sam’s shoulder, sinking into his strong embrace, riding the sweet high of their bodies together. 

“Look at you,” Sam said, cupping her chin in his hand, stroking her cheek with his thumb. When she lifted her eyes to his face in the mirror, his eyes were dark with lust. 

“You gorgeous little peacock. You’re so vain, you’re still posing in front of the mirror even when you come.” He shook his head, chestnut hair falling into his face. “Wanna make you come so hard you forget yourself, wanna watch you fall apart.”

“Ohhh…” Before she could say any more, he spoke again. 

“Elbows on the bed.” His tone was steel and brooked no argument. She shivered in anticipation.

His hands settled around her waist, bracketing her hips in a firm grasp. He slid one hand up her ribs, ghosting over the curve of her breast, pressing her down into the mattress as she bent over the bed. His touch grazed her collarbone before he tightened his grip around her shoulder and began to rock his hips again.

“Hold on,” he whispered, lips brushing the shell of her ear as he leaned over her. “Don’t come until I say.” 

She whimpered at the burning stretch as he filled her even more completely. His next thrust was deep, and she moaned as he hit that sweet spot inside of her. 

Sam was relentless in pleasuring her, pinning her down and pounding into her. Her fingers twisted in the sheets, desperate and grasping. She gasped and swore, begging to no avail. 

He kept telling her to wait, letting her orgasm build again until the tension was almost painful, until her whole body shook with the effort of holding back. Her words ran together into a stream of incoherent nonsense, her breath coming in ragged sobs. 

His fingers dug into her shoulder as he hauled her upright. His arm crossed her ribs, holding her back against him like a band of steel. His other hand slipped over her hip, low over her stomach, fingers brushing between her legs again as he pressed in with the heel of his palm.

“Sam!” she cried his name.

“Yes,” was the only thing she heard before she let go, coming in a rush of hot fluid all over his hand and their intertwined legs. 

He shuddered, and moaned, throbbing inside her as he finally gave in too. The feel of him set off a ripple of aftershocks through her, and when they finally settled, they were both breathing hard.

“Look at you now,” Sam said, his tone proud and satisfied.

In the mirror, she was a shameless mess. Mascaraed tears tracked her cheeks, her lips were bitten and puffy, and knotted curls stuck to her shoulders with sweat. She could already see the marks of Sam’s fingers, bruises rising against the freckles on her skin. Her mouth was open, her eyes wet, and she was almost limp in his embrace. 

She drew in a deep shaky breath and let her eyes flutter closed again as she relaxed back against his chest. He embraced for a moment before he lifted her, easing her off his lap to lie back against the pillows piled at the head of the bed. 

He spoke as he covered her body with caresses and kisses. “I’ve never seen you so beautiful, all wrecked and wanton. Love you like this, love to watch you come undone for me.”

She reached for him but he rolled away, off the bed, and walked on unsteady legs to the sink. He came back with a basin of warm water and a washcloth. She watched again in the mirror as his hands roamed her body, cleaning and soothing her, caring with every touch. 

Before long, she turned away again, not because she was ashamed of how she looked; she was proud of the two of them and how perfectly they enjoyed their bodies together. She turned away because if she looked at him for one more moment, she felt like she would melt. The look on his face, the love in his eyes, was so blindingly bright. Raw and vulnerable as she was, she ached to see him. 

When he was cleaned up too, he discarded the water and cloth, and spread a clean towel over the end of the bed before handing her the discarded peacock robe. She sat up and looked at him, not in the mirror, but full in the face. His eyes were wide, his face soft and a little flushed. 

She met his gaze openly, for as long as she could, then she took his hand and tugged him gently onto the bed. He stretched out and she curled up against him, running her fingertips lazily over his face as he wrapped her in his arms. He tipped her chin up with one hand for a kiss and she hummed in soft satisfaction. 

“Was the surprise worth it?” she murmured teasingly. 

She felt Sam chuckle, low in his throat. “Order whatever you want for us to enjoy like this. With or without your peacock finery, you’re the most beautiful woman, and I love you just like this.” 

He slipped a hand into the folds of her robe, around her waist to hold her close. 

She was still smiling, smug and sated, as she drifted off to sleep in his arms.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AN - People have asked when I was going to write something dealing with the fact that both Sam and Rowena have lost sons Inspiration and some of Rowena’s lines come from 13x12, 13x19, and 15x08.   
> The photos in the graphic are all from 13x12  
> In my mind I see this story taking place within the series Taken By The Wind and When the Rain Washes You Clean but all that’s really necessary is to understand that they have an established, trusting, sexual, close relationship (and Dean is supportive of it.)

“Hello, boys.” 

Sam looked up with a start. That was a greeting he would know anywhere. He leapt to his feet and met Rowena at the bottom of the stairs.

“What brings you here?” he asked as he brushed a kiss over her lips.

“What, can’t a witch visit her favorite hunters, now and then?” Her tone was more defensive than teasing as she looked up at him.

Hearing voices brought Dean into the room. His shoulders were squared, his head up, like he was ready for anything.

“Oh hello there.” Rowena turned from Sam to his brother. “I don’t suppose you’re planning to make some of those hamburgers.” She pronounced the word in a midwestern American accent. 

Sam made eye contact with his brother and they both stifled a laugh. 

“No, I’m making chicken alfredo,” Dean answered. “If that’s okay with you?” 

“Well the scotch I brought was specifically paired to bacon and beef, but, one moment.” Rowena rummaged in her handbag and pulled out two bottles of wine. “I suppose this will do.” 

Sam was rather sure that her bag wasn’t big enough to hold three bottles but he knew better than to ask. Dean pulled out a pocketknife that had a corkscrew. He left the room, briefly, and returned with three glasses. 

“To us,” Sam raised his glass in a toast, looking back and forth between the other two. Rowena barely tipped her glass in his direction before downing her entire drink. 

Dean’s eyebrows shot up and he cleared his throat pointedly. “I think I’ll go, uh, start on that food and leave you two alone.”

“So, tell me what really brings you here.” Sam’s question was easy, his hands open in a disarming gesture, inviting Rowena to say what she wanted. 

“I believe you are the current owner of a book I must have. And since you’re so god-awful possessive about your library, I had to come here to find it.” 

“Tell me more about it, and we can look together.” 

Rowena laughed, then, but it wasn’t a joyous sound. “As if you would be able to help me with witchcraft.” Her words were sharp, her tone cutting. 

“But I’ve-” 

“I said _no_.” Rowena stomped one foot to drive home her point.

Sam shook his head but knew better than to argue. Instead, he followed her to the library and then settled down in one of the chairs. He watched her flit impatiently from shelf to shelf, growing more frustrated as she failed to find what she wanted. 

“So tell me what you’ve been up to since I saw you last?” Sam tried again.

“Oh, a little murder, a little mayhem, you know, the usual.” It was a deflection, rather than an answer. 

No matter what he asked, she gave away nothing. He thought, given their history together, the months of a shared relationship and shared beds, that he had earned her trust. Today, though, she held him at arm’s length. 

Apart from their first kiss when she walked in the door, Rowena was keeping her distance from Sam. She stalked around the library, circling back to the table by where he sat just long enough to keep draining her wineglass. 

On one pass, he reached for her, settling a hand around her waist. For just one moment, she leaned into his touch. Then she pulled back, folding her arms around her body in a protective stance. He was used to her flirting, toying with him, but this was different. She seemed almost scared. 

She stormed impatiently from bookcase to bookcase, heels clicking on the floor. More than once she pulled out a volume but, finding it not what she wanted, slammed it back. The longer she looked, the angrier she seemed, and the more dramatic her motions grew. Her skirts swirled around her in a whirl of silk and shimmer. 

He was still confused about what, exactly, she wanted - why she was here. He had grown accustomed to her mercurial moods, her petulant pouting. He wasn’t used to this. If it had been anyone but her - proud, powerful Rowena - he would’ve described what was going on as throwing a fit. 

“Ro, my love.” He tried again. “This is quite a lot of effort for one book. If it’s attention you want, I’m always happy to give it. Anything for you.”

“Anything, Sam?” Her answer, like all her others, was sharp and quick. For a moment he thought her voice almost cracked, and then she poured herself another glass of wine.

The way she was today- he had never seen her like this before. Something about her was different. Her eyes were wide, her tone sharp, her answers quick and clever. Today more than ever, she reminded him of a fire - captivating, dangerous, sucking all the air into the room into her vortex of flame.

As he tried to calm her, she drank. And drank, and drank, and drank. With each glass of wine, her mood got uglier. She shrank into herself, her words deployed to wound. Every time he tried to get close to her, she pushed him away, And although he never thought he would say this, she was getting, well, drunk. 

“Dinner’s almost ready,” Dean popped his head back into the room. Sam stood up, holding out a hand, and Rowena handed him a bottle of wine. 

In the kitchen, Dean had made some caprese appetizers. Sam knew how much it meant to Dean to feed people. He was grateful for the care that this extra effort represented.

When the chicken alfredo was ready, along with a loaf of crusty garlic bread, all three of them sat down to eat. Dean’s food was, as always delicious. The brothers chatted easily as they ate, but Rowena remained moody.

After dinner, they returned to the library and Rowena continued drinking. Sam was absolutely sure that some spell was at work here, because he hadn’t seen her open another bottle but she was definitely on her eleventh glass. 

Her alcohol tolerance was no magic, just three hundred years of practice. But after that much wine, even she was seeming a bit … tipsy. 

Dean was the one who asked, of course. “So what brings you here?”

“What, I can’t come visit without a reason? I can’t see my favorite Winchesters?” Her green cat eyes were wide, her lashes heavy. 

“No, of course, you’re always welcome here,” Sam rushed to reassure her before she cut him off.

“Then again, how pitiful is this place??” She gestured in a wide arc, somehow not spilling any wine from her glass. “My life has come down to this. Drinking with hunters. It’s an embarrassment for a witch, really.” She downed her glass before speaking bitterly. “I have better things to do, believe me. I don’t need you Winchesters.”

Her laugh was brittle, mirthless. “Most of the time, I don’t even like you. Big lumbering piles of flannel, Moose here and his pie-eating brother.” 

“Then why are you here?” Dean’s words were short, his body language defensive. Sam knew Dean’s patience with her would only last so long. 

“Sammy is good in bed and I like that.” Her words were almost slurred. 

Dean raised his eyebrows. “Oh? Is that-” He started, but Sam just shook his head. 

He stood up and held out his hand. She took it, but grabbed for her wine glass with the other. Her movements were clumsy, and it slipped from her fingers, crashing to the floor in a spill of wine and shards. 

She hardly seemed to notice, so it was Sam who said, “I’m sorry, Dean. I’ll clean it up.”

“You’ve got your hands full.” Dean answered, nodding towards Rowena. “I got this.”

“C’mon.” Sam’s words were kind but firm as he slipped an arm around her waist. “Let’s go to bed.” 

Rowena leaned heavily against him as he guided her down the hall, stumbling on the heels of her boots. He led her to her room. 

Sam had been in this situation before, with Dean. And he had lots of practice with Rowena’s elaborate clothing, so he easily found the zipper of her dress. 

She let him ease it off of her and when she was down to her lingerie, shimmied in front of him. She tried for an inviting look. 

“You’re beautiful, but not now,” he whispered as he kissed her. “It wouldn’t be right.” He turned back the sheets on her bed and gestured with one hand. She crawled in without much complaint. He pulled the covers up, tucking her in, making sure that there was a bottle of water on her nightstand. 

He wondered for a moment about her makeup. She usually took it off before bed, he knew, but he wasn’t entirely sure if it was an actual thing or some glamour she had conjured. 

“Sam, don’t leave me.” Her voice sounded small, fragile. He settled on the bed next to her and held out one hand. She took it like it was a lifeline. In a few deep breaths, her eyes fluttered closed and she drifted off to sleep. 

Sam stood up slowly and looked around the room. He wanted to turn out the light but he also didn’t want her to wake up in the dark. Surely, with all these candles - ah, there. He found one in a wide glass jar and lit it. The soft white glow of flame warmed the room as he flicked the light switch and closed the door behind him. 

Dean was still in the library when Sam settled back in the chair across from him. 

‘So what’s up with your girlfriend?” Dean’s tone was teasing but there was concern behind his words. 

“She’s not my girlfriend.” Sam shook his head. Then he looked up to meet his brother’s eyes. “I don’t know.”

He had seen Rowena vulnerable, begging, hell, that was one of his favorite things. But he had never seen her like this, all shattered sharp edges. He didn’t know what was wrong or how to fix it. All he could do was trust that in time, she would tell him.

The next morning, Sam and Dean were long awake before Rowena got out of bed. Sam had gone for a jog and Dean had worked out and they had both had breakfast. They were back in the library, working on research for a case, when she wandered in. 

She was still a little sleepy, her tousled red curls pulled back into a loose ponytail, her face clean and her lashes done but traces of makeup still smudged around her eyes. 

Sam held out his hand and she walked straight to him, sinking her head into his shoulder. He kissed her temple softly. 

“Do you want a cup of tea?” She nodded against his neck.

“Maybe an egg?” Dean asked. 

“Aye.” Her voice was soft and ragged. “Some toast, too, please.” 

She slipped into a chair as the brothers headed for the kitchen.

“She said please, Sam. She never says please.” Dean shot his brother a curious look. 

“Look, I know, something’s up. I just don’t know what it is.” Sam shrugged. 

Rowena drank the tea, and ate the egg and toast, and perked up a bit. Overall, though, she was still oddly subdued. The three of them spent the morning working on the case. Rowena chimed in here and there, her words soft, her voice hesitant. Sam was still a little caught off guard at how quiet she was, with none of her usual pride and sass. 

It was almost lunch time when Dean stood up and stretched. “I’ve been thinking about those hamburgers you suggested, Rowena. I could make them tonight, if you’ll be here? Does that suit you, m’lady?” 

She smiled, then, almost laughed. 

“Okay. I’m going to the grocery. I’ll be gone for a couple of hours, leaving you two alone.”

Behind Rowena’s back, Dean mouthed the words, “Sort this out while I’m gone.”

Sam huffed out a sigh and shrugged, all at once. “Trust me, I’m trying.” 

Once he left, Sam and Rowena returned to reading in comfortable silence for a bit until Sam could no longer stand it.

“Ro.” His voice was deep but gentle. “What’s going on? You don’t seem yourself.” 

“How so?” Rowena tilted her chin up, proud and stubborn as always.

“Look, I know you think feelings are beneath you.” He was teasing her, but still gentle. “I know you’re upset over something. Tell me, what is it?” 

Rowena took a deep breath, and for a minute, he thought she wouldn’t answer. Then she spoke.

“Today is dear Fergus’ birthday.” 

Fergus. It took a moment for Sam to connect the name with Crowley, King of Hell. 

“I know he was a horrible man, but he was my son.” Tears threatened to spill from her eyes. “My only child. I would still rather have a living son, even if he hated me.” 

Sam reached for her hand and she took it, squeezing hard. He had never thought much about her as a mother, about her son, and her loss. 

“It’s okay if you want—” he started, but she shook her head. 

She bit her lip to keep it from trembling as she pulled her hand back. With one manicured finger, she flicked away tears without smudging her mascara. 

“There, that’s fine,” she proclaimed. “I’m good now.”

“I don’t think you are.” Sam spoke softly. She was so fragile, like the wrong word could shatter her into a million pieces. “Look, I can’t pretend to know what it’s like to be a mother. But Jack, he has been a son to me, to all of us really.”

Rowena nodded, so he kept talking. 

“When we lost him, I- it was like there was a hole in my life. Where he was gone. Not a day went by that I didn’t miss him.” 

“I don’t have many regrets but the few I do still haunt me.” Her voice rose suddenly, startling Sam. “You just keep thinking you have time! You think you can try again, to make things right. And then one day - you can’t. The time is gone, and with it, your last chance.”  
Tears were pooling in her eyes but she didn’t seem to notice or care.  
“I never tried to sell him for three pigs you know.” Her laugh caught on a sob. “I was so young when he was born and he was so young when I left him. ” 

Her hands flew to her face, suddenly, and she was full-on crying, her shoulders shaking. Sam reached out and pulled her into his arms. This time, she leaned gratefully into his embrace. 

He held her close as she shook and sobbed, tears soaking the front of his flannel. 

When she finally grew still, he pulled back just far enough to look her straight in the eye. His hands cupped her face. She closed her eyes and turned into his palm. 

He couldn’t believe she was so beautiful and bare in front of him. He just wanted to hold her long enough to put all the broken pieces of her heart back together. 

“Ro?” he said finally. 

“Take me to bed, Samuel,” she whispered, as her tears tracked hot into his palms. “Make me forget.” 

This time she was the one who led him down the hall, tugging him along with her fingers laced into his. 

He undressed her slowly, letting his hands linger over her skin. She leaned into his every touch, inviting more, needing more. As his lips trailed down her body, he lingered over the stretch marks that hugged the cradle of her belly. 

He had often wondered why she left them there when she had magiced away every other scar or flaw. Now he knew - she kept them as reminders. 

Rowena must’ve taken his pause for hesitation, because she spoke softly. “Please, Sam, don’t make me beg. Give me what I need.” 

And although he loved nothing more than to make her beg, he knew this was not the time. He lifted her easily onto the bed and she lay back against the pillows. He settled easily over her, arms and legs caging her in, holding her. She reached for him as he slipped into her.

His gaze never left hers, not even when her eyes fluttered closed and her head tipped back, soft cries of pleasure falling from her lips. He watched as she fell apart underneath him, and only then did he let himself go.

As his breathing slowed, he rolled onto his back, tugging her with him until she rested with her head on his chest. Her body was still trembling from her release, so at first he didn’t realize she was crying; then he felt hot tears falling against his skin. 

“It’s okay, let it out,” he murmured, wishing there was something more he could do. He settled for stroking her back and smoothing her hair, holding her close for as much comfort as his presence could provide. Slowly, she stilled, her sobs settling into sighs. 

Sam grazed his lips softly across her temple and she lifted her chin for a real kiss. 

“I think Dean might have those hamburgers ready soon. You hungry?” 

Rowena nodded, and so the two of them dressed. 

As they entered the kitchen hand in hand, Dean joked, “Worked up an appetite, you two?” 

Dean had outdone himself. He had burgers with not only cheese and bacon but lettuce, tomato, mushrooms, onions, and hand-cut potato fries. 

The three of them sat around the table in the kitchen, eating and drinking, close and simple. The conversation was easy, both Winchesters mindful of Rowena’s fragile mood. Dinner was over and they were all sipping the scotch she had brought, which, Sam realized, truly was an excellent match for bacon cheeseburgers. 

Rowena raised her glass. “To Fergus.” She teared up, and Sam reached for her hand. She squeezed it tight as she swallowed hard, and then spoke again.  
“Boys, if you love someone, let them know. Don’t ever wait for tomorrow. Don’t count on getting a second chance. You may, but you may not. Be sure they know. Love who you love, today.” 

They all drank, then. The Winchesters looked at one another, but neither needed to say anything.

Late that night, Sam held Rowena close in bed, as if he could heal her pain with his touch alone.

“I love you,” he murmured, looking deep into her eyes.

“I know that, Samuel.” She laughed, delighted, and the sound made his heart soar.

“Well you said to be sure.” His lips moved against her skin.

“Oh I am.” 


End file.
